The guy on the bench opposite could have gone to work as a beekeeper without needing more protection.  It was impossible to make out his body shape under the expanses of black denim. The hat was pulled down deep over the face, saucer size cushioned headphones covering his ears. The only skin visible was the tip of his unshaved chin and his hands. He did not lift his face from the iPod in his lap once during the fifteen minute subway trip into the city. The hands were normal in all respects. No bruised knuckles or dried blood or anything. He was wearing  a large silver ring on each finger including the thumbs. All save one were of the clunky screw nut kind that young men tend to favor. The ring on the right middle finger depicted two human bodies entwined in a sexual pose. No matter how much I squinted I could not make out what the pose was.  Here I was faced with a man who would not be less visible if he was wearing a burqa, who was giving people one single clue about his inner life and I could not make it out. It is extremely irritating how my eyesight has been deteriorating. Of course the fact that his hand was in constant motion wasn’t helping any. The guy was either fiddling with the iPod or drumming his knee obsessively.

Or was I imagining? The nurse at the employee health checkup later that morning disputed my opinion, saying that my eyesight is quite normal. For my age bracket. She was very patient and very young and pretty enough to be a model. My employer has just switched from one health service provider to another which must be a great deal more expensive judging by the difference in resource allocation. I was greeted politely upon arrival and only had to wait a few minutes. I had at least half an hour allotted with a nurse and half an hour with a physician. The urine sample which I submitted at the reception had been analysed during the half hour I spent with the nurse, so that when I got to the physician’s room she could tell me the results. The customer-centricity of the processes was crystal clear. I was made to feel welcome, valued, important. My self-image, alas,  had not undergone a magic transformation from being treated as riff-raff during the most recent checkup. After two minutes I got sick of the coddling.

They were unable to take my ECG. The beautiful young nurse tried again and again. After the fourth time she had to call in a senior nurse. The machine did not work. Finally I asked whether it could be due to the bath oil I had used after the shower. And that WAS the reason. BUT no one got mad because I was a valued customer. SO the doctor asked me to go back to the nurse for another ECG. AND the receptionists asked me to wait in the lovely waiting room for another few minutes for the nurse to take the second ECG. Whereupon they forgot me. When I tried to tell the receptionists that I could not wait any longer because I had to go to work they snapped at me. I imagine that that they felt stressed because there were no fewer than THREE people in the waiting room by this time. So I just left.

When I received the phone call later in the afternoon where an anxious voice apologized and asked me if I wanted to schedule a new appointment soon for an ECG I replied that there was no need to worry and that I was completely satisifed. Which is true.